


sleep forever minus one

by superbest (thoughtwewerefriends)



Series: jacked up [1]
Category: South Park
Genre: Angst, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, Not Beta Read, Not Happy, One-Sided Attraction, Unrequited
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-26
Updated: 2018-03-26
Packaged: 2019-04-01 00:34:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13986651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thoughtwewerefriends/pseuds/superbest
Summary: why do my flowers always die?





	sleep forever minus one

"Have you made any new friends?"

Stan's laugh rings warm and gentle, tinny, through the speaker of Kyle's phone, and Kyle's heart wrings itself out in his chest in response.

"I don't wanna make friends, dude.  I want _my_ friends."  There's a crackling sigh, a creak of bedsprings, and Kyle knows that Stan is spreading out in his bed.  "I don't know if I've said so recently, but I really miss you losers."

He has said it recently.  It's practically all Stan talks about in their texts.  He hates being the new kid, in the middle of freshman year, when everyone else is already so tight.  He hates being away from their redneck little mountain town.  He hates, hates, _hates_ his dad for being such a dickhead, and driving his mom away.

"Yeah? You miss me?" Kyle's tone is grating, thick with sarcasm, and he's fishing.  He's so clearly fishing.

"Yeah." Stan's voice is leaps and bounds softer now, a gentle murmur against Kyle's ear.  The tone strokes warm fingers down his spine, curls up in his chest.  "I miss you so fucking much, Kyle."

Kyle squeezes his eyes shut, burying his face in his pillow for a moment.  This is their routine.  Their choreographed dance.  Every single night, Stan calls him up after his mom goes to sleep, and they talk until one of them falls asleep (usually Stan).

"You wanna know somethin'?"

"What's that?" Kyle's soul drops back into his body, and he _blinkblinkblinks_ at his wall.

"I wish you were here, dude.  With me.  Right now."

Kyle shifts, chewing the inside of his cheek, pressing a cool hand over his face.  When had it gotten so warm in his room?  He would have to kick Ike's ass later for fucking with the thermostat.  "Yeah?" he whispers, and he hopes he doesn't sound as strangled as he does to his own ears.  "Right now?"

"Right now."

Kyle can hear his heart slamming against his ears.  He loves Stan.  Loves him, _loves_ him.  Wants so desperately to tell him.  "I wish I was, too," he says instead.  "I fucking miss you, dude."  He fidgets with the strings of his hoody, squeezes his eyes shut.

"I feel like I haven't seen you in eight _years_."

" _Clingy_.  It's only been a couple months."

"A couple months is too long."

This is routine.  They have this conversation every night, and it's done funny things to Kyle's heart since day one.  It stirs feelings deep in him, strokes the little monster that has its claws wrapped tight around Kyle's heart, makes him think about what could be if Stan wasn't hundreds of miles away and was, instead, curled up with him under his blankets. 

"Yeah.  Way too long."

\-----

"Dude, _what_?"

"Yeah, dude!" Stan laughs, and Kyle has to sit down, has to clutch his chest to keep his heart on the inside of his body where it belongs. "I'm coming back!"

"What?  When?  Why? _What_?"

"My mom decided to try to make it work with my dad, I guess?  I don't know, I didn't really stop to ask!  I came right upstairs to call you!"

Kyle shifts, dropping onto his back in his bed.  Stan had called him first, out of everyone he could have called.  He's so stupidly in love, and the feeling rolls over him in sluggish, nauseating waves.

"We're driving back the day after tomorrow.  Packing everything up today, and junk."

"I don't think I've ever gotten better news in my entire life."

"Dude, you've been told by doctors, like, _several times_ , that you weren't going to _literally die_."

"Yeah?"

Stan is silent for a moment, and the laugh that follows that silence is the purest, happiest sound Kyle has ever heard him make.  "You're fucking ridiculous.  I can't wait to fucking see you again."

\-----

Kyle is sitting on the steps outside of the Marsh house, staring at his phone screen, when he hears the diesel engine of the moving van.

 **STAN:** i see you!!!! i see you i see you 

He's on his feet before the van is halfway down the block.

Stan is flinging himself out of the passenger side before its stopped.

They collide in a bone-crushing hug halfway across the front lawn, knocking the wind out of each other with solid mass and bony elbows, clinging onto each other like they're each drowning and the other is a life preserver.  Kyle buries his face into Stan's shoulder and inhales, inhales, inhales the scent of cedar and rain and _home_ , and the moment is perfect because Stan is laughing maniacally against his neck.

They pull apart, and Stan is grinning ear to ear, blue eyes wide and bright and happy, and Kyle's vision is fogging over tears.  He releases his hold on his best friend to grind his knuckles into his eye sockets.

"Holy shit, dude," Kyle mumbles.  He sniffles, blinking at Stan, tacking on a watery smile.

"I missed you so fucking much." Stan's face is suddenly intense, so serious. His hands tighten in the fabric of Kyle's jacket.

They hug again, and this time, it's softer, and Kyle feels whole for the first time in months.

\-----

"Y'better not disappear on us again, Marsh." Kenny's grin is wide under the shadow of his hood, and he elbows Stan in the arm. 

"Dude, I'm never leaving this shitty town ever again."

"Good.  I don't think I can stand another six months of Kyle here getting all _mopey_ and _weepy_ over how m-- _fuck_!"

Stan barks a laugh as Kenny tumbles into a snow bank, shoved sharply by Kyle, who had been bringing up the rear in their little triangle. 

"Dude, knock it off!  I wasn't _moping_!"

Stan holds out a hand, hefting Kenny up off the ground.

"The lady doth protest too much," the blond stage-whispers behind his hand, waggling his eyebrows.

"I'll put you on your _ass_ , McCormick!"

"Kyle, dude, calm down!" Stan's laugh is warm sunshine. Kyle's feathers are immediately unruffled.  "Jesus Christ, we're never letting you drink again."

"Whatever, man," Kyle mumbles, kicking at a chunk of ice.  "Making me sound like I'm some kind of princess in a fucking _tower_ or something."

"Does that make Stan the prince, riding in on his trusty steed, to whisk you away into the sunset and--"

" _Dude_ ," Kyle hisses, shoving against Kenny's shoulder again.  An empty threat.

"Alright, break up the catfight.  This is our stop."

Kyle pauses, looks up at the house looming over him.  It's his.  His heart soars, and he considers shuffling his ass along to temple to thank god for giving him this gift.

Kenny claps Stan on the shoulder, gives him a little shake.  "Good to see you again, Stanley.  Don't be a fuckin' stranger, mkay?" He holds out a hand, and Kyle rolls his eyes before leaning forward and slapping him five.

"Later, Ken."

"Be good, boys."

They watch Kenny walk down the block and turn the corner in silence.  Once he's out of sight, Stan turns to Kyle, graces him with a smile that leaves him momentarily amazed at the fact that god had chosen to pour actual, literal sunshine into this boy.

"Wanna go inside and watch some shitty movies?  I added a bunch of 'em to our netflix queue."

Kyle lets out a soft sigh, nods, holds onto his heart with both hands to keep it from floating out of his chest.

\-----

They're somewhere between shitty one-star netflix horrors when Kyle stops watching the TV and starts watching his best friend instead.

Stan's eyes are shining in the dull blue glow from the screen.  When he turns to look at Kyle, his breath is warm, and it smells like the beer the three of them had been sipping at Stark's earlier that evening. He smiles, and Kyle can feel himself slowly imploding. 

It's like he never left. They've contorted themselves into some strange amalgamation of _Stan-and-Kyle_ , with long legs tossed over Stan's lap and spindly arms winding their way around Kyle's midsection.  Knotted together, propped up against one another, existing in each other's personal space.

"You're not paying attention, dude. You're missing all the good parts." Stan's breath ghosts over Kyle's mouth, his nose. It's warm, and smells sour, and it should be disgusting, but Kyle can't bring himself to turn away.

"Yeah," Kyle replies, unable to say much more while faced with the overwhelming closeness of Stan's eyes. They look more grey than blue, here, in the dim light of Kyle's living room. "I just, you know, really missed this. Really missed you."

Stan's hand comes to rest, almost hesitantly, against Kyle's knee, and he's suddenly seeing stars. "I missed you, too. Like, so much."

Kyle feels dizzy, and he knows he's stopped breathing. Stan's eyes flick from Kyle's, to his mouth, back up again, and every molecule of Kyle's body is suddenly shifting. Something is about to happen, and it's going to change everything. He can feel it, can feel the pulsing static fizzing in the finite space between them. He leans in, just the tiniest fraction, and he feels Stan's breath stutter across his lips, watches his eyes close.

"It's really good to be back."

Stan turns away suddenly, and he's facing the TV again. The bubble has popped, and Kyle is left more than a bit confused, heart feeling scrubbed raw in his chest. He aches. He feels like an idiot.

"Look, dude. They're about to be shredded by that chainsaw thing."

Kyle turns back to the screen, and pretends not to notice the way Stan's hand moves from his knee to the arm of the couch, even though he's still dizzy, and feeling cheated.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading!  
> this fic has been used as a coping mechanism for me, for the nights when i was just Feeling Bad.  
> please comment and let me know what you think of it.
> 
> (also, this is going to potentially be the first work in a series? a chronicle of pining, if you will. stay tuned.)


End file.
